


Here Is Your Boy Tonight (I Know He’s A Gentleman)

by Monsieur_Grenouille



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: A lotta heavy stuff, Cuddling, Emotional, Grief/Mourning, Kissing, M/M, My fics have been getting pretty heavy, Post-Hiatus, Reunion, Sad with a Happy Ending, Therapy/Closure, death (mentioned frequently)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur_Grenouille/pseuds/Monsieur_Grenouille
Summary: Baby, seasons change, but people don’t.Or do they? Four years does a lot, and Patrick witnessed it before his eyes; he lost weight, he lost his wife and kids to a drunk driver, and he uncovered the truth about his sexuality, whether his parents were comfortable with it or not. And now, he’s ready to reunite with the man who might even be his soulmate.People change, 2007 Pete Wentz, get over it.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	Here Is Your Boy Tonight (I Know He’s A Gentleman)

**Author's Note:**

> Got bored in class, scribbled this down on my notes, and now I’m typing it. Fun.  
> Not historically accurate, since Declan was born post-hiatus, but it’s for the emotion. It’s _all_ for the emotion.

_“I’m just the man on the balcony, singing nobody will ever remember me. Rejoice; rejoice and fall to your knees!”_  
_-Fall Out Boy, “From Now On We Are Enemies (Bonus Track)”_

* * *

Patrick stood on his porch, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand, even though he had absolutely no intention on drinking it. He just needed something to hold onto besides the past. Not “the past” as in when he was part of Fall Out Boy, dominating the charts with song after song. For all he knew, those days were over. He meant “the past” as in when he had his wife and son. “The past” as in when Declan would drag him outside on summer nights to stare at the sky. The eight year old was obsessed with constellations and stars, and wanted more than anything to be an astronaut.

_“Daddy,” he’d said to his dad one night, “You know how people have gone to the moon?”_

_Patrick nodded, wondering where this was going. “Neil Armstrong? I’ve heard of him.”_

_”I wanna do the first star landing! Like, I’d walk on stars or something.” Declan looked at him with his wide eyes. God, he looked like Patrick. It was like looking in a mirror, at times. Crazy._

_Patrick smiled and shook his head at his kid. “You can’t walk on stars. You’ll burn up into ashes before you get there.”_

_”Why?”_

_Patrick went on to explain what stars are made of, how they work, and why there seems to be more stars in some places than others. Declan watched in awe and wonder, amazed at how his dad knew so much. In his eight year old mind, his dad knew everything. In his eight year old mind, you could only die if you were old. In his eight year old mind, men loved women and women loved men. In his eight year old mind, people didn’t drive when they shouldn’t._

Frick, Declan’s eight year old mind would be disappointed. Because Patrick felt like he didn’t know much. Because Patrick’s son passed before his 10th birthday did. Because Patrick realized he loved men, only weeks before the crash. Because someone drove on the same road as Declan and Elisa when they really should’ve gotten a ride home. A tear slid down Patrick’s face, followed by another. And another. Soon, he was sobbing on his porch, accompanied by no one. He felt like he needed a boyfriend, but wasn’t ready to get back into dating. 

Maybe he didn’t need a boyfriend. He needed a male platonic friend that would hug him, cuddle him, let him cry into their shoulder, and maybe kiss him. From what he’d learned from his nephews, he needed what was called a _homie_ or whatever. But... he had a “homie.” Or at least he did. 

Pete. Pete had always been there for him, even at the most inconvenient times. If Patrick came down with pre-show jitters, Pete would sit with him in the dressing room and do breathing exercises to calm him down. There was also this one time when Pete replaced Patrick’s driving license with a picture of Ruhollah Khomeini, the former supreme leader of Iran. It was frustrating at the time, and astronomically terrifying when he found the photo in his wallet. But now that he really looked back on it, Patrick missed his best friend. Instinctively, he fingers reached down into his jeans pocket to pull out his phone. He dialed Pete with a shaky hand, and waited. 

Just at the last moment, when Patrick was about to give up hope, Pete’s rough and low voice emerged from the other side. “Patrick, it’s so late...” he mumbled. 

Patrick sighed and tried to talk. “I-I’m so sorry. I can... I can call back at a better time.” 

Pete made a chuckling sound. “Just because it’s late doesn’t mean I’m asleep. You really haven’t changed, have you?” 

Patrick sobbed into the phone, unsure of why he even called in the first place. “I _have_ changed, Pete!” he whimpered, “Things have changed! Things are changing fast, and I remember you always calmed me down back then. So I’m just asking one more time if you could work your magic, or whatever.” 

Pete shushed him over the phone. “Are you home right now?” he asked. 

Patrick replied, “Yes, I’m home.” 

“Are you alone?”

”Yes, I’m alone.”

”Where’s your wife?” 

“She passed away, which I also need to talk about.” 

Pete gasped quietly. “Oh, my god. I’m on my way. You still live on 5th street, right?” 

Patrick smiled, just a little. “Yeah, I live on 5th. Same blue house with the grey roof,” he looked at the stars and thought of Pete. What if he showed Pete the stars? Would he even understand? “I, um, have a lot to talk about, actually. It’s going to be a lot at once, so be prepared.” Patrick sniffled and dried his tears. 

Pete replied, “It’s okay, not much surprises me anymore after my divorce.” Pete made a sad laughing noise. Patrick sighed. What was worse? Divorce or being widowed? Patrick shook his head. Not widowed. Widowered. Or whatever. Just... when the person you were married to dies. Alone, I guess, would be the best description of his situation. 

Wait a minute. Pete was alone. Patrick was alone. They're meeting up in the middle of the night to talk out issues. If Pete was still as hot as he used to be... 

No. Heck no. Heckity frickin no no. No love tonight. Nothing beyond two grown men catching up on life stories. Even if... Even if Pete still had that twinkle in his eye. Even if Pete still smiled when he said Patrick’s name. Even if Pete gave the most amazing hugs, where you can smell his masculine scent and get the feeling that everything’s gonna be alright. Even if Pete turned out to be gay as well. No matter what happened that night, Patrick told himself it would be disrespectful to his wife to fall for a man. Even though Patrick liked men, and that was how he wanted to live his life; in the arms of a man. He used to be straight, and he felt his parents liked it more that way. 

But maybe it doesn’t matter. What his parents think about their son is their opinion, but Patrick doesn’t care. He really doesn’t. 

Pete cut off his thoughts, “Patrick, are you still there?”

”Yeah,” Patrick shuffled his feet on the porch, walking inside. “Can... can I ask you something?”

”Always.”

”Do you like... are you... would you ever...?” Patrick couldn’t formulate words. 

“I’m listening...” Pete sounded concerned. 

Patrick spat out his question, “Do you like boys?” He blushed afterwards. _Boy_ is such a juvenile word. He should’ve said _men_ or at least said _guys_ , if he ever wanted to have a chance at meaning anything to Pete Wentz. _Wait,_ he thought, _I already mean a lot to him_. The thought seemed to calm him down, but he still waited for Pete’s answer. 

“Patrick,” mumbled Pete, “I don’t want you to set me up with your friend. Just cause I’m single doesn’t mean–“ 

Patrick blushed. “I don’t have any friends anymore. You’re all I have, Pete. I was just wondering, you know? I’m questioning myself– no wait, I’m _certain_ in my opinion that I love men.”

”What? You?” Pete was astonished, almost sounding disbelieving. “You’re kidding me, Patrick. You’re not gay.”

Patrick huffed. That was not what he needed to hear. “I _am_ gay, Pete. And.. and I just want to know if I know anyone I can talk to about it. So, once again, do you like men? Yes or no, Pete. If you want to say maybe, that’s okay too.”

The bassist sighed. “I’m in your driveway. Let me in and I’ll tell you the answer. The tabloids could be listening from my phone or something, hehe. But seriously. Let me in. Bye!” Pete hung up quickly as Patrick flung the door open. Oh no, Pete was still hot. 

“Living London, Pete, you look awesome.” Patrick checked him out shamelessly, trying to make it obvious.” 

Pete paused before dipping down to kiss Patrick on the cheek. “I’d say the same about you. Can we sit down?” he looked over at the couch. Patrick nodded, blushing from the kiss, and led Pete to the couch. 

“We... need to talk,” Patrick said, “Like, it’s necessary. Mandatory conversation.” he tried to keep to himself, looking at his shoes. That was until Pete started to scootching the singer towards him. 

“Reunion cuddles,” he whispered, “I need cuddles from you.”

”Platonic or no?” 

“Or no,” Pete kissed Patrick’s hair and smiled. “Infinitely no. I missed you, even though I feel like I never _had you_ to begin with. You were so distant from me, when it came to doing things like hanging out, and I feel like you were obsessed with your job. It was hard.” 

Patrick nodded, “Let’s start there. I was so confused during Folie (and I know that’s no excuse) but there was a lot happening in my mind. I was starting to question my sexuality when I was married and had a kid, and the reason I was questioning it in the first place was the beautiful gentleman I worked with named Pete Wentz. I got mad about how you made me feel, and so I engulfed myself in music.” he looked at Pete by turning his head. Their faces were so close. Patrick held himself back. _Not during therapy_ , he thought. Pete tried to make a move by closing his eyes and leaning forward, but Patrick covered Pete’s mouth with his hand. “Not now,” he said. 

Pete blushed, “S-sorry. I thought you...”

”I did, too. But we’re talking right now,” Patrick replied. He tried to compensate by holding Pete’s hand in his and pressing his back further against Pete’s chest. Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick’s middle. _God, it feels good_ , thought Patrick. He let Pete nuzzle the back of his neck and ear, but he stopped after that. “Don’t get distracted, Pete.” 

Pete chuckled softly. “Okay, okay. Uh... how did Elisa and Declan die? C-Can I ask that yet?” 

Patrick sighed, “Elisa was picking Declan up from a Boy Scouts meeting, so it was dark out, and the car got hit by a drunk driver. With... with both of them in it. It came in from the back and was speeding at least thirteen mph above the speed limit,” Patrick braced himself before saying the worst part. “...at a red light.”

Pete flinched and held Patrick closer than ever. He bowed his head onto Patrick shoulder and shivered. “I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. 

Patrick fought back tears. “You don’t have to say anything.” Pete started crying. Patrick turned his head to look at him and put his hand on Pete’s cheek. “Hey, Petey. Don’t... don’t cry. It’s okay,” he whispered. Pete shook his head. 

“Declan was nine years old, Patrick. It’s not okay!” Pete looked Patrick in the eye. It... the look in his eye... it was like if someone could be so intense that they relaxed. He looked like a cold, shivery puppy from the ASPCA commercials. Patrick sighed downheartedly and gave Pete a small, relaxed, wet kiss. Pete stilled for a moment, formulating a response. He decided to back out due to fear. Immediately, he regretted it. “I-I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I just didn’t expect it.” 

Patrick balled Pete’s tee shirt in his fists and nuzzled the bassist’s neck. “I was trying to comfort you,” he explained. 

Pete chuckled softly and wet his lips. “Well, I’m still a little sad, so...” he looked down at Patrick playfully. 

Patrick leaned their foreheads together. With a glimmer in his eyes he said, “You were always a little sad.” Then he and Pete sort-of made out for a while. Pete was really PG with it all (which came as a surprise to Patrick) and didn’t even try to do anything but lay there, kiss him, and smile against Patrick’s mouth. He also laughed every so often. Truly, Patrick felt bad for not asking out Pete earlier. To compensate, he tried his best to give Pete everything he had. 

They paused after a while, breathless. Patrick put his head down on Pete’s shoulder and caught his breath. “That... that was... wow.” 

Pete closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he panted, “I’ve never been so tired after a kiss, but it was _worth it_. Where’d you learn to kiss like that?” 

Patrick relaxed, trusting Pete with his body weight. “I don’t know,” he giggled, “I did a lot of things in middle and high school.”

”Middle?”

”You’d be surprised. I was good... if you wanted to make someone jealous.” The singer bit his lip shyly. 

Pete reached out to grab Patrick’s hand. “I mean, I’d be jealous if my crush was dating you. Because like, why should my _crush_ be dating you? Why can’t _I_ be dating you?” 

Patrick chuckled and allowed a comfortable silence to settle. Settle, like snow on a city street. He ended up falling asleep, the ghost of a smile on his face. Pete looked down at some point, and shook Patrick awake. 

“What.” Patrick growled, his hair messed up. Pete remembered how much the singer hated being woken up before ten am. 

“Sorry to wake you up, baby, but it’s almost midnight and I was wondering if I should leave.” Pete kissed Patrick’s hair sweetly. Just... trying to tame the man. 

Patrick wrapped his arms around Pete’s middle and held on tightly. “Stay,” he commanded, “You will _stay_.” 

_Oh_ , Pete thought, _that’s an order_. But to be honest, he liked that command. He laid with Patrick for a while, and didn’t fight it when his eyelids started to feel heavy. But before he fell asleep, he looked at Patrick and asked, “So... should I call Joe and Andy to tell them the band’s back on?” 

Patrick hesitated, gazing at Pete through tired, confused, half-open eyes. “Why does this matter right now?” he asked, slightly frustrated. 

Pete kissed Patrick, buying himself time.

**Quick Note for all you lovers!! When you’re in a relationship, and your partner asks a question you don’t know how to answer, kiss them. And in that time, try to think of what to say. Unless your partner is mad. Then you’re on your own. Good luck, buddy.**

“Babe, answer the question. Why is Fall Out Boy so important right now?” Patrick stared at Pete with an intensity that only existed in the midst of a Death Valley Shaun T. workout session. 

Pete felt a shiver go down his spine. “I was just asking so I wouldn’t forget,” he confessed. 

Patrick chuckled. “So... do I want Fall Out Boy back?” he repeated.

Pete nodded, “Uh-huh.”

The singer prolonged his answer with an uncomfortable pause. “I don’t know...” he said, “you _did_ wake me up...” 

Pete whined, “Baby, don’t tease!” He tugged at Patrick’s shirt and gave him puppy eyes. 

Patrick laughed. “Yes, Pete. I’ll call the others in the morning to ask them the same question. _But for the love of god please let me sleep now, or there will be words._ ” 

Pete sighed, “One more kiss? Please please please, Patrick?” 

Patrick shook his head, but Pete was persistent. The bassist was doing everything Patrick loved, like touching that one spot on Patrick’s lower back and calling him “Pattycakes” and such. But like... they were all of Patrick’s guilty pleasures. Just like Pete used to be Patrick’s guilty pleasure. “Pete...” he whispered in the middle of his boyfriend’s neck-kissing experiment, “You need to go to bed. _I_ need to go to bed. It’s four in the morning, and if we’re lucky we’ll get six hours of sleep before the sun wakes us up. Turn off the lights and fall asleep.”

Pete reached behind himself to flick off the lamp. He gradually stopped kissing Patrick’s neck and fell asleep with his forehead resting on the singer’s shoulder. Right before he passed out, he managed to whisper, “Elisa would be proud of you, right now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah... Melancholy love story. My favorite colour of human relationships. Really makes you think, doesn’t it?  
> Clean comments!
> 
> AAAHHH I'm going back and reading this after two months, and I apologize. This is stupid and sounds like it was written by an angsty nine year old who thought he was emo cos he liked "High Hopes" and "Centuries." I'm so embarrassed by this work. I hate it so damn much and I'm sorry for writing it. It only took two months for me to hate it.


End file.
